


a bird in flight

by couldaughter



Category: Roswell New Mexico (TV 2019)
Genre: (to yourself and others), 5+1 Things, Coming Out, During Canon, F/F, Happy Ending, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Lesbian Character, Panic Attacks, Post-Season/Series 01, Pre-Season/Series 01, Psychological Trauma, Sibling Bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-28
Updated: 2019-07-28
Packaged: 2020-07-24 18:14:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20018857
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/couldaughter/pseuds/couldaughter
Summary: Two weeks after the cave, Isobel went to the Crashdown just before closing.“Oh, Isobel,” said Liz. She was wearing the stupid antenna headband and her waitress uniform and she looked so, so tired, like she could’ve fallen asleep where she was standing. Isobel could relate. “Um, we’re about to close, so, if you wanted anything it’ll have to be to go.”Isobel shook her head. “I, uh. I was hoping I could talk to Rosa.”





	a bird in flight

**Author's Note:**

  * For [myrmidryad](https://archiveofourown.org/users/myrmidryad/gifts).



> Warning: Use of a lesbian slur (you'll know which one) in a non-derogatory manner. This story makes the same comparison between Noah's powers and sexual assault as the show does, although it is not explicitly described. Additionally, the author believes that Isobel was not capable of fully consenting to any sex with Noah at any point, which is implicit in the fic. 
> 
> "He was the only person I ever loved. What does that say about me?"

1

“Hey, Izzy!”

Isobel paused, left foot hanging in mid-air. Mom had bought her a pair of actually nice shoes the week before, dusky pink with a low heel; she needed to be careful where she stepped. She recognised the voice, though.

She turned around.

“Hi, Kelly,” she said, hands tight around the straps of her backpack. Her mouth felt really dry all of a sudden. “What’s, uh, what’s up?”

Kelly was in her third period Bio class, and fifth period English Lit, and apparently was now spending lunch period waiting for Isobel by the cafeteria.

They’d talked a couple of times, she was pretty sure, about how annoying Mr Linehan was or how bored The Great Gatsby was making them. Sometimes Kelly leaned in very close and whispered about those same things, and even though they weren’t really anything it felt like she was letting Isobel in on a secret.

Isobel ducked her head, and cursed herself for persuading mom to let her get rid of her bangs.

No alien mind powers required, although she’d been pretty tempted by the end.

Kelly had bangs, though. She had short brown hair that went sort of dark red when the light hit it, and freckles all across her cheeks, and braces like six months after everyone else in their grade got them.

Isobel felt kind of sick. Her heart was beating really fast, for some reason.

“Not much,” said Kelly. She crossed her arms, tapped one of her converse shoes against the linoleum floor of the hallway. “Do you wanna hang out after school? Go to the Crashdown, maybe?”

“Oh,” said Isobel. “I, uh, I’m really sorry, but I. I can’t. I already made plans with someone.”

She and Michael and Max were going to sneak out to the drive-in and heckle _Stargate_. It was kind of a tradition, ever since Michael finally arrived.

Kelly flushed. “Totally, totally. Uh, see you around?”

“No, no,” Isobel said, heart still racing. “Um, are you free next week? I can do any day.”

She didn’t know why it was so important to her. Kelly bit her lip. She never wore lip gloss, but today they had the right kind of shine for it. Isobel stopped looking at Kelly’s mouth. Not the time.

“Oh, um, I can do Friday?”

Isobel had yearbook committee on Fridays. They were close to making an official decision on quote layouts.

“Totally. I can totally do Friday.”

Kelly nodded, hands in her pockets, and headed into the cafeteria. Isobel stared at the spot she’d been standing for a while.

“Well someone looks happy,” said Michael, sauntering up beside her. Michael was pretty much always sauntering. Isobel had a suspicion it was part of his DNA. If aliens even had DNA.

She was still in 8th grade Bio; there wasn’t much about aliens in the curriculum.

Isobel went to hit him on the arm, caught her hand in mid-air, and stuck her tongue out at him instead. He was wearing long sleeves today.

“I’m not happy,” she said. “I’m an intergalactic woman of mystery. I have to keep an air of cool detachment at all times.”

“Tell that to the Cheshire Cat grin you’re sporting, Iz,” said Michael.

Isobel huffed. “I’m going to the Crashdown next Friday, if you _must_ know.”

“Ooooh,” he said, eyes alight. “Who’s the lucky fella?”

“Kelly O’Hara,” she said, quietly. “It’s not a date or anything. Just as friends.”

That _was_ what Kelly had meant. Definitely. Isobel didn’t let herself consider the other possibility.

“Whatever you say, Iz,” said Michael, eyes kind as always. He slung an arm around her shoulders. “The world is your oyster.”

In a couple days she and Michael and Max were going camping, out in the desert. Michael would make fun of her for this for _weeks._

She found she didn’t mind all that much.

2

Pre-wedding jitters were totally normal. That was what mom had said, had looked over at dad and smiled fondly. “Your father was a total wreck,” she confided, leaning in close, careful not to ruin Isobel’s perfectly-braided hair. “Threw up in a potted plant right outside the courthouse.”

“And you still married him?” Isobel said, her chest tight.

“Oh, darling,” said mom, resting a gentle hand on her bare shoulder. “If he wasn’t nervous, I’d be worried. It’s a big commitment, and I’m so proud of you for making it.”

“Thanks, mom,” said Isobel. Some of the tension in her shoulders eased. She loved Noah, of course she did. Didn’t he tell her that all the time?

She frowned.

“No, don’t,” whispered Noah. He was so handsome in his suit; his tie was perfectly straight, his cuffs spotless. He reached out a hand and pressed his thumb gentle against her forehead, smoothed away the lines. “You know how many cameras are pointed at us. How could you let even one perfect moment slip away?”

He smiled.

“I do,” Isobel said, and blinked. The officiant smiled warmly at her. She didn’t know what was happening to her.

Noah was still smiling, though. She clung to that, let herself smile back and wait for the kiss.

When it came, she kept smiling, something joyful in her brain rising like a flood. Her lips felt right against his, a perfect moment.

She pulled away, and they were dancing. _Here, There and Everywhere_ was playing over the sound system as a crowd of guests cheered. Isobel was fairly sure she remembered veto-ing it weeks ago.

“Oh, you know I hate this song,” she said, and she looked down and realised she was in her reception dress, the same peach tone as her prom dress had been all those years ago. “Don’t ruin a perfect moment.” She shifted her right hand, pressed against his lower back.

Mom had also told her to expect to lose track of the day, just a little bit.

She slipped her reception dress onto a hanger, and turned towards the hotel bed. There were an obscene number of pillows.

“Don’t tell me you were saving yourself for marriage, Iz,” said Noah. He was sat on the edge of the bed, naked, the fading daylight casting a long shadow over him. “That ship sailed a while ago.”

Isobel shrugged. Her chest felt tight again. It was always a little weird, seeing Noah naked. He was nice to look at, but —

She smiled, airily. “Just nervous, I guess. This was a big day. A lot had to go right.”

“Really?” Noah said. He stood up, took both her hands in his. Looked deep into her eyes. “I wasn’t nervous at all.”

3

“Hey, uh, is that Isobel Evans?”

Isobel twisted on the barstool, felt her head spin along with it. “Who wants to know?”

And then she stopped, and looked. She’d been pretty busy all night, flexing her powers, and she still hadn’t noticed —

“Oh, my god,” she said. “Kelly?”

Kelly O’Hara left Roswell High halfway through sophomore year; it was pretty common in a military town, but Isobel had missed her anyway.

They’d never made it to the Crashdown in the end. Isobel took the week off school after the camping trip, and when she came back Kelly wouldn’t talk to her.

“Uh, yeah,” said Kelly. She’d cut her hair even shorter; no more bangs, just a kind of pompadour thing with shaved sides. It really suited her. “It’s, uh, it’s good to see you, Isobel. It’s been —”

“Ten years, at least.” Isobel glanced back at the bar just long enough to pick up her beer and take a long pull from the bottle. “I hope you found a girl who didn’t stand you up at the Crashdown,” she offered.

Kelly laughed. It was deeper, now, than Isobel remembered it being. She felt light-headed; the beer was hitting her harder than usual.

“Sure did,” she said, and waved her right hand so that her wedding ring glinted in the light. “What about you? Some lucky girl make an honest woman out of you yet?”

“Oh, no,” Isobel said. She curled over herself, protecting her stomach. “No, I, uh, I’m straight. My husband is great, though. He’s wonderful.”

The words felt like lead in her mouth. Kelly raised her eyebrows.

“You sound real sure about that, Izzy,” she said. “But if you’re happy, I’m happy. I’m sorry for blanking you so much before I moved, it was a real teenage thing to do. I always thought I was above that kinda shit.”

“It’s fine,” said Isobel. Something inside her had unwound, softly, when Kelly called her Izzy. “If you give me your number you can get all kinds of exciting texts about local fundraisers that will make you wish you’d done worse than blank me back then.”

“You can take the girl out of the yearbook committee,” said Kelly. She grinned. “Alright, Evans, I’ll bite. Your husband can just deal when I seduce you over to the dark side.”

 _Don’t bother_ , thought Isobel. _Already there._

Then she frowned, and lost her train of thought, and felt a surge of affection for Noah, all at once.

4

Two weeks after the cave, Isobel went to the Crashdown just before closing.

“Oh, Isobel,” said Liz. She was wearing the stupid antenna headband and her waitress uniform and she looked so, so tired, like she could’ve fallen asleep where she was standing. Isobel could relate. “Um, we’re about to close, so, if you wanted anything it’ll have to be to go.”

Isobel shook her head. “I, uh. I was hoping I could talk to your sister.”

There was a formula she and Liz had learned to follow, since everything, and she was very definitely not following it by asking to speak to Liz’s very-recently-resurrected big-little sister, but —

“I’ll ask her,” said Liz. “But there’s no guarantees.” There was a near-permanent line between her eyes now, a frown or a grimace or something. Isobel wanted to smooth it out for her, wanted to _help._ It was an itch beneath her fingertips.

Now that she could blow things up with her brain, she was starting to make bigger plans. Crazy plans.

“Of course,” said Isobel. She knew all the reasons Rosa wouldn’t want to speak to her, and didn’t blame her for any of them.

She sat on a stool to wait, idly spun in circles and tried not to look at the jukebox. Max had shown her some stand-up comedy thing about a diner years ago, and now she couldn’t think about it without wanting to throw up.

To be fair, a lot of things made her want to throw up recently.

She turned back at the sound of the door to the backroom opening, braced herself against the countertop.

When she saw Rosa first, when they found Max, she’d felt a rush of — something. Something left over from all the memories she’d clawed back from the times Noah had taken control of her everything. And then, after the rush, she’d stumbled to a long-dead tree and thrown up onto the roots.

There were other side effects, now Noah was gone. Michael knew not to touch her without warning; there were parts of the house she couldn’t go into. She was sleeping in the guest bedroom; she’d burned the sheets they’d last slept in together. Her last haircut she’d had to close her eyes and breathe deep whenever the male stylist touched her neck.

“Evans,” said Rosa, wary and watchful. Isobel didn’t blame her.

“Ortecho,” she replied. They hadn’t really talked at all since Rosa came back. There’d been too much to do: it turned out there wasn’t a whole lot of silver available in the desert outside Roswell. It’d taken hours to get Max into the pod he was still floating in now, cold and dead.

She shook her head, sharply, and tapped her nails against the bar. Her left ring finger didn’t make much noise; she’d snapped the nail removing the rings.

“What, uh, what did you want? Just really needed to dig up some bodies again?”

Isobel flinched. “No, um, I wanted to — apologise.”

“Kinda late for that.” Rosa raised an eyebrow. It made Isobel feel a shadow of something; she frowned.

“I know! I _know_ that!”

Rosa shied away, arms crossed. Isobel realised she’d stood up, and that she’d shouted, and that maybe she should’ve thought about this conversation a little more in advance.

“I’m sorry, Rosa,” she said, quietly. “For shouting. I don’t know how to say sorry for everything else.”

Rosa kept her arms folded, but her eyes softened. “No, it’s — you’re good. Liz explained about the psycho alien rapist, Alex refused to tell me about your husband, I kind of filled in the blanks.” Her voice was so matter of fact, it took a second for the actual words to sink in.

“Right,” said Isobel. “I guess that makes Roswell levels of sense.” Her chest felt tight again. It was actually kind of hard to breathe, for some reason. Her ribs ached. “Um, could we open a window, or something? I feel kind of — it’s a little —”

“I’m getting the sense we’re both kind of fucked up about this,” said Rosa. She had her hands on Isobel’s elbows, suddenly, then on her back, forcing her head between her knees. “Breathe, Evans. It’s a panic attack, you’ll live.”

Isobel tried to breathe in, choked, sobbed, choked again. Her head had felt so _empty_ when Noah had died — when Max had killed him. He’d been inside her all those years, he’d _said_ , he’d always been there he must’ve _done_ something, how did she never _notice_ —

“Oh, shit,” said Rosa, somewhere far away. “Breathe _out_ , Isobel, hijo de puta, you’re not gonna get _anywhere_ like that.”

She was on the floor, she thought, could feel the linoleum beneath her hands. Could feel the counter against her back, cool air coming from somewhere. Could hear the jukebox beginning to play.

“Fuck,” she gasped, breathed out in a rush, breathed in, let her head fall back against the counter. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck.”

“Not hearing a _thank you_ ,” said Rosa. She crouched down in front of Isobel, held out a hand. Isobel looked at it for a minute, thinking through molasses, then let herself be helped to her feet.

Rosa steadied her when she wobbled. She felt a rush of affection, different to how Noah’s had been, lighter and airier. Like she was breathing it out.

“Thank you,” she said, with a weak smile. “Jesus, I came here to try and hash things out, not have a goddamn breakdown.”

“Happens to the best of us,” said Rosa. “You should’ve seen the guest room my first night back here.”

“Oh, I bet.” Isobel reached out, wanted to _touch_ , suddenly, reassure herself this was real. Being around Rosa was reminding her of being seventeen in the worst possible way. “I really am sorry. And, uh, I’m sorry for how I treated you when it really _was_ me, back in high school. I was an absolute bitch.”

“Yeah, you were,” said Rosa. “I get the sense now you were maybe going through some shit, but so were a lot of us, and not all of us got to be the most beautiful white girl in the school.”

Isobel flushed. She knew that wasn’t true, anyway — she’d known plenty of beautiful women in high school. She’d been so jealous of them, actually, the way they moved so gracefully. She’d wanted to touch them, sometimes, like an art exhibit or something. Nothing weird.

“You did get murdered,” agreed Isobel. “I can’t really beat that.”

“You can try, bitch,” said Rosa. “But I wouldn’t recommend it. Being nineteen sucks balls.”

“Oh, I remember.” Isobel sighed. “I met Noah when I was nineteen. Never looked at anyone after that.”

“You look at many people before?”

“Oh, no,” said Isobel. “I have a kind of specific type, I guess. None of the boys really fit.”

“And the girls?”

Isobel froze. “I, uh, I’m not — it’s not —”

“Calm down, Evans,” said Rosa. “I hear it’s twenty nineteen now. You got some stuff to figure out? You figure it out on your own time. Just thought it might help to hear it from someone who mostly remembers you as a moody dyke.”

Isobel snorted. Something was unwinding inside her, something familiar. “I’ll keep it in mind, Ortecho.”

5

“I hear there’s some gossip fresh from the mill,” said Isobel, setting a trio of shots down on the bar table between them. “Spill.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Honestly? I don’t even know where to start.”

Isobel slid onto the bench beside Michael and dug an elbow into his side. “Well, I hear this one has some exciting news.” She leaned in close, let a smug smile settle onto her face.

Michael huffed in disgust, failing to hide a smile. “I may have something,” he said. He paused to down one of the shots, barely grimacing. “But I’m a gentleman, Isobel. I don’t kiss and tell without at _least_ three times the legal limit inside me.”

“Ugh, you’re no fun,” she said, sticking her nose in the air. They’d been at the Wild Pony for a few hours, trying to adjust to a town that wasn’t on the brink of some kind of cataclysmic extraterrestrial threat for the first time in… a while. Her best friend for the past week had been google, and she was very willing to throw that old bitch over for a few shots of Captain Morgan and an acetone chaser.

And they had Max back. So they had to drink to celebrate, and to cope, and for whatever other shit they’d been through that deserved drinking over.

Isobel always dedicated at least one shot to Noah, and then smashed the glass. Maria had only given her shit for it once, before she’d found out about the aliens.

“At least smash it outside,” she’d said, after about a week of refusing to speak to any of them for longer than it took to order a drink.

Isobel did her best to follow the rule. It was probably the least she could do.

Maria was behind the bar right then, actually. Her hair was curly again, crammed underneath a bandana. Oversized hoop earrings glittered in the light. She was laughing at something Alex was saying to her, way too quietly to be heard from across the room.

Isobel really wanted to hear how Maria laughed with someone she actually liked.

She tore her eyes away at Max’s polite cough. He grinned at her, carefree the way he rarely was. “You got something to tell _us_ , sis?”

“How about this,” said Isobel. “You get Michael to talk, Michael gets me to talk, I get you to talk. That way we all get to be equally embarrassed tonight.”

“Oh, but you know humiliation isn’t my kink, Iz,” said Michael, the worst alien on Earth. Not that there was much competition anymore.

“Shut up, Michael,” she said, feeling tipsy and fond and dizzyingly okay. “Do you ever think about anything that comes out of your mouth?”

“Try not to, as a rule,” lied Michael. But she and Max both knew he was lying, which was almost the same thing as being honest. “Anyway, Max, you gonna try and get the goods? Or are you just gonna make doe eyes at Liz all night?”

Max was, in fact, very busy making doe eyes at Liz.

“This is an aliens-only event, Max,” said Isobel. “We agreed on one evening where you didn’t have to remind us how tragically single we are.”

“Well,” said Michael, after a moment.

“Oh, _no_ ,” said Isobel. She grinned, hopeful. “Please tell us you finally pulled your head out of your ass.”

“I’m not much of a contortionist, Iz,” said Michael. “But, uh, yeah. Maybe.”

“That grin is not a _maybe_ , Michael!” Isobel barely restrained herself from smacking him on the shoulder. He _was_ smiling, was the thing, something small and easy and content. And he was smiling in the exact direction Isobel had been staring about two minutes beforehand.

She turned her head.

Max waded in. “So, uh, which one is it?”

Isobel actually did smack Max. “Max, if this is your attempt to be a ‘good ally’ again…”

“I’m trying to be a supportive brother, alright. It’s not my fault both his exes are stood in the same square foot right now.”

“Hey, now,” said Michael. He squinted towards the bar. “I could be talking about, uh, some guy I think I sat behind in AP World History.”

“That was the only AP class you didn’t take, Michael,” said Isobel. “It conflicted with Shop.”

“Don’t reveal all my secrets at once, Iz,” he replied, running a hand through his curls. He was still growing them out; Isobel made fun of him for it about once a week. “And, uh. It’s Alex. We kind of, uh, worked things out. Made a start of it, anyway.”

Isobel shrieked, then covered her mouth. “Oh god,” she said through her fingers. “Am I a teen right now? Am I going to have to fight acne again?” It would go right along with the crisis she’d needed google to help with.

“Nah,” said Michael. “Just half the graduating class, again.”

“I definitely didn’t start most of those fights.” It was getting easier to talk about what Noah had done, but it wasn’t _easy_ yet. She was just trying to get some practice in.

“Sure, but you did finish ‘em. I was a real proud big brother.”

“Shut up,” said Isobel. “You know we don’t know our actual time of birth. I could be older than _both_ of you.”

“Whatever you say, Iz,” said Max. He paused, trying and failing to hide a smirk. “I guess the truth is out there.”

“Oh, my god,” said Isobel. She shoved both remaining shots at him. “For that, you can take _both_ of these. I will be back once you’ve thought about what you’ve done.”

“Do we get to hear your gossip then?”

Isobel rolled her eyes. “We’ll see how well you behave.”

With that, she turned and marched to the bar. Maria was still leaning on the counter to talk to Alex.

Isobel had spent high school pretty much ignoring Alex, based solely on his clothes, and after he found out the secret she’d been very busy being comatose in an alien pod while he and Michael failed at being just friends. They talked a little more now, though, after a few long nights in one of their seventeen bunkers figuring out alien symbols, or hacking the FBI, or trying to unwind a little of the accumulated tension from the lives they’d ended up living.

She didn’t know if they were _friends_ , exactly, but she liked him.

“Hi,” she said, sliding onto the stool next to him. Maria’s eyes met hers; Isobel ducked her head. It was kind of overwhelming, being the centre of Maria’s attention, even when she wasn’t doing her psychic thing over a palm reading. Not now that Isobel had noticed the shape of her mouth, the curve of her eyelashes.

“Hey, Isobel,” said Alex. He was wearing a flannel over a t-shirt for a band Isobel had never heard of. She glanced at his hands, and saw that his nails were painted an iridescent blue.

“Alex,” she offered. “And Maria. Having a good evening?”

“It’s been alright,” said Maria. She nodded towards the corner of the bar. “Racist Hank’s taken the night off, probably to cry jerking off to photos of his ex-wife, so it’s been pretty quiet. Given me time to talk to this handsome side of beef.” She grinned at Alex. Isobel’s stomach turned over.

“Same here,” said Alex. Isobel got the sense he was trying very hard not to look over his shoulder. “Liz has disappeared somewhere, probably to rendezvous with Max so we can’t make fun of her for it in public.”

“It’s real cute that she thinks that’ll stop us,” Maria said. “She ought to know us way better by now.”

“Absolutely,” said Alex.

Maria turned at the sound of shouting. “Ah, shit,” she sighed, already moving towards the noise. “I’ll be back in a minute, just gotta go be Wonder Woman for a hot second.”

Isobel savoured the mental image for a moment, then turned to Alex.

“I hear you and Michael finally figured out your co-dependent BS,” she said. “I just need to let you know, again, that if anything happens to him because of you —”

“You’ll kill me with my brain, yeah, alright, River Tam,” said Alex. He didn’t sound annoyed, though. It was almost fond. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

It was only a token warning, anyway. Isobel knew that if something ever _did_ happen, Alex would hurt himself far worse than she ever could.

“Anyway, now that’s out of the way,” she said, liquid courage coursing through her veins. “I had something I wanted to ask you.”

“If it’s about the leg, I already told you it was a shark attack.”

Isobel snorted. “No, it’s not about that. I was just — I wanted to ask, how did you know you’re. God. Okay. This sounds awful, actually, I’m just gonna —

“No, wait,” said Alex, frowning. “I know you’re not asking out of some kind of, whatever, latent homophobic instinct. Is there maybe something about _you_ you were hoping to get round to? Because we could just skip straight to that, and avoid all my childhood trauma in the meantime.”

Isobel blinked. “Oh, well. Yeah. That sounds like a way better plan.”

“I know, I’m like a gay Yoda,” said Alex. “It’s definitely not just life experience.”

There was something stirring in Isobel’s brain. She shut her eyes for a second, tried to breathe. It was going to be so awful if she said what she wanted and Alex looked at her the way she was afraid he might. Like she was some kind of fraud.

“I think I might be a lesbian,” she said, trying not to stumble over her words. She’d spent a lot of time thinking about it, since Noah.

Since his influence drained out of her, and she’d started feeling things she’d thought were an artefact of her teenage years, hormonal and lonely and confused.

“Oh,” said Alex. He looked at her then, properly, an assessing gaze she hadn’t seen before. Maybe this was what gaydar was? Oh, god, Isobel was going to have to develop a gaydar.

“Don’t panic, is the first thing,” he continued. He smiled at her, something genuine in it that Isobel hadn’t seen often. “And congrats on figuring it out. Welcome to the club.”

“And what club is that?”

“Well, Michael _really_ wants to call it the Gayliens, but —”

Isobel didn’t stop laughing until Maria got back, some time later.

“What’s got you two so happy?” She asked, mouth twisted to keep her own smile in check.

“I’m a lesbian,” said Isobel. It came out way more easily, that time. She was looking forward to getting to practice.

“Damn,” said Maria. “Next drink’s on the house.” She really did grin, then, and Isobel took a moment to stare at her mouth.

She was almost thirty, she was tired, she was gay; she had a lot of lost time to make up for.

+1

Here was the problem with Maria DeLuca: she was perfect, and it was making Isobel very frustrated.

Perfect didn’t really mean _perfect_ , of course. Maria wore her personality like armour; she kept all her feelings close to her chest until they rose up to choke her; she’d fucked at least one guy named Chad _multiple times_.

Perfect meant what Isobel wanted it to mean: beautiful, and funny, and kind of a bitch in the ways that made you a great person to have a glass of wine with after a long week. Not that they were drinking wine, that evening. Way too boring.

“Racist Fucking Hank,” said Maria, waving her lemonade for emphasis. “Is gonna be first up against the goddamn wall when the revolution comes.”

“Wait long enough and I bet the alien overlords will explode him for you,” offered Isobel, taking a sip of her own drink - a Shirley Temple, or at least what she’d cobbled together from the drinks cabinet Noah had left behind.

“Ooooh,” said Maria. She closed her eyes, a blissed out expression on her face. “Give me a second, I gotta savour that image.”

Isobel bit her lip, and tried not to stare.

They’d only been having these drink and bitch sessions for a few weeks, but it was already getting to be too much for Isobel’s newly discovered instinct for pining. Usually she at least had Liz as a buffer, but Liz had begged off with the excuse that she was ‘very busy’ with her ‘real job’. Rosa came along sometimes - was the reason they never drank anything stronger than kombucha - but she was busy more often than not with the Narcotics Anonymous group she’d started.

So Isobel was stuck in her big, empty house with just Maria for company, trying very hard not to imagine kissing her beneath the stupid elaborate light fittings.

Or on the couch where they were sat, Maria with her feet tucked under her, Isobel with legs crossed. Or on the rug in front of the fireplace that Isobel had never learned how to use. Or maybe in the kitchen, against the stupid cabinets Isobel had never even liked.

She realised she was staring at about the same moment Maria opened her eyes and stared back.

“Hi,” said Maria. She narrowed her eyes. “I got something on my face?”

“Yeah,” said Isobel. She licked her lips. “I’ll get it for you.”

She leaned in, balanced with one hand on the back of the couch, until she was about three inches from falling into Maria’s lap. “This alright?” She asked.

“Oh, absolutely,” said Maria. She grabbed the front of Isobel’s blouse in one hand. “I’ve been wondering whether you were gonna make a move.”

“I was kind of worried you might’ve sworn off aliens,” said Isobel, hope rising dangerously in her chest.

“Hey, it was never the alien part that was the problem,” said Maria. “It was all irreconcilable differences, such as him being stupid in love with someone else.”

“Good,” said Isobel. “I have to say, though. This is my first time.”

“With a girl?”

“With a human,” said Isobel. She smiled. “So excuse me if my ovipositor slips out.”

“Shut the fuck up, Evans,” said Maria.

Isobel was kind of expecting the first kiss to be underwhelming. She didn’t really know why; maybe the fact that kissing Noah had always taken a while to get interesting, or some residual panic that she wasn’t _really_ gay, or that maybe she didn’t actually think Maria was hot, she was just the only available woman in Roswell who knew the secret.

All that melted away when Maria kissed her, though. Her mouth was soft, and tasted faintly of cherry lipbalm and lemonade, and it made Isobel feel like she was drowning.

She pressed closer, settled her weight on Maria’s lap and felt herself unwind as Maria slid a hand to the nape of her neck, twisting her fingers in her hair. She gasped, open-mouthed, felt Maria shudder and push up from the couch. Holy shit, she wanted Maria to pull her hair forever if this was what it felt like.

Her hand slipped beneath the hem of Maria’s t-shirt, her skin so warm to the touch Isobel felt like she might burn. Maria hummed, pleased, against Isobel’s mouth, pressed her free hand to Isobel’s side.

She pulled back. “Is that a heartbeat I feel?”

“Maybe,” said Isobel, hoarse. “It bother you?”

Maria raised her eyebrows, and said nothing.

“Right,” said Isobel. She sat back, trying to calm her breathing. “I think maybe we should pause for a second and, uh, talk.”

“You’re hot, I’m hot,” said Maria. “You wanna go any further tonight?”

Isobel shook her head, then frowned. “I mean, unless you —”

“Nuh-uh, Evans,” said Maria. “This is a two person decision.”

Isobel waited for more, for some mention of ‘what you’ve been through’, but it didn’t come. She took another deep breath.

“Okay,” she said. “Yeah, I think I’m good with where we got to. Do you want to get coffee in the morning?”

Maria smiled at her. “I’m so ready to learn your fancy pants coffee order.”

“A mocha is _not_ fancy, DeLuca,” said Isobel. “It’s just good sense.”

She couldn’t help grinning, though. Saturday was hours away; there would be coffee and Maria.

There was a whole new future sprawling out ahead.

**Author's Note:**

> No betas we die like men.
> 
> Gifted to Emma Myrmidryad because it is THEIR FAULT that I watched this goddamn show and therefore THEIR FAULT I wrote this absolute mess.
> 
> Title from Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. Huge props to whoever made the Lesbian Anthems Megamix on Spotify that is Exclusively made up of different recordings of that song!!
> 
> Anyway, being a lesbian is weird and confusing and being a lesbian AND an alien is probably even more confusing. I don't know what to say about this, really, I just love Isobel Evans so much. 
> 
> Find me on twitter/tumblr @dotsayers, just, constantly yelling about something or other, as evidenced by my recent fic output.


End file.
